


phantom

by necrosisjones



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, tfw your ex returns from the dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22228396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/necrosisjones/pseuds/necrosisjones
Summary: He walks slowly, almost carefully, but there’s finesse in both his stride and the gentle motion of his wrist when he pushes the cloak — or what’s supposed to be a cloak — back from where it’s draping over his shoulder. Shaxx’s seen this mannerism before, heknowsit; the realization raises the hair on the back of his neck.
Relationships: Shaxx/Uldren Sov
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	phantom

**Author's Note:**

> okay LISTEN I saw someone mention this ship on twitter ages ago and it's stayed with me since then (I mean seriously, the way Shaxx says that 'fair prince' line? whew), so I figured it's time to finally write them now that we got some fresh Dawning lore

The Dawning is coming to a close. Guardians no longer swarm him at any given time, offering him their brand new cookie recipes to try. A few of them still visit him daily to leave a package on a nearby crate. He doesn’t mind, of course, enjoying the confections invariably, but he wishes more of them would queue up for the Crucible instead.

The sun is already setting, the sky peppered with paper lanterns that begin their ascent from the City’s streets. The Tower prepares for the night, the vendors are closing their booths, Guardians handing in the last of their bounties. Dimmed lights, hushed voices; it’s… Peaceful. But it won’t be for much longer.

The ship arrives with little acknowledgement, much less than anyone would’ve expected. Shaxx notices it immediately and perks up, as he always does when he sees an unfamiliar aircraft by the boarding platform. He observes as the Guardian steps out and stands there for a while, seemingly paying no mind to the sea of whispers that instantly surround him, the voices so very prominent in the stillness of the evening.

It must be his first time at the Tower, judging by the way he’s looking around with unbound curiosity, the tiniest of details catching his attention. Shaxx can’t see the Guardian’s face from the distance, but there’s an uneasy feeling at the bottom of his stomach, something he’s never experienced before. Why does is feel like he knows that man? 

Despite resembling a lost child rather than one of the Traveler’s chosen, there’s distinctive grace in the way the stranger carries himself. He walks slowly, almost carefully, but there’s finesse in both his stride and the gentle motion of his wrist when he pushes the cloak — or what’s supposed to be a cloak — back from where it’s draping over his shoulder. Shaxx’s seen this mannerism before, he _knows_ it; the realization raises the hair on the back of his neck.

He’s heard the rumors already, it would be impossible not to, when it’s the only thing Guardians talk about before their Crucible matches. He’s never been too quick to believe in gossip, and he was confident that this one will turn out to be fake, but… His conviction is wavering rapidly with each step the man takes. Could it really be—

 _No_. Whoever this may be, it isn’t Uldren, it won’t be. The Fair Prince is dead, buried along Shaxx’s memories of him, of _them_.

The Guardian is making his way towards him, one finger trailing against the cold metal of the railing, and Shaxx begins to regret staying in the courtyard until now. He should’ve retired to his quarters already, he should’ve done something to postpone the inevitable.

When the man finally steps closer, his face lit by the screens broadcasting the last match of the day, Shaxx’s heart stops.

It really is _him_.

His eyes are devoid of its spark — the spark Shaxx used to enjoy whenever he stayed the night and Uldren lulled him to sleep with stories of his most exciting adventures.

His princely cheeks are pale, the evermoving constellations under his skin no longer so prominent. The royal visage, once so elegant, seem awfully mundane now. He looks… Spent. Like he hasn’t slept in days, maybe even weeks. It doesn’t fit him. Or rather, it wouldn’t fit the prince — Shaxx has to remind himself that the prince is no more.

A Ghost flickers into existence by the Guardian’s side, its shell spinning in excitement. It bumps into the man's shoulder before squealing with joy, “This is Lord Shaxx! Remember when I told you about him?”

Shaxx pretends that he’s only noticed the man just now and turns to him with open arms. It’s time to put on his best act.

“Guardian!” he booms, then immediately goes silent. The word doesn’t sit with him right, not in this case; it probably never will. “It’s good to see you,” he adds, quieter.

The Guardian looks at him, blinking sluggishly. He seems… Apathetic. Like he doesn’t want the world around him to affect him in any way. “Do we know each other?” he speak, his tone flat.

A flicker of memory — of Uldren’s head resting on his chest, the two of them tangled under the finest of sheets — and Shaxx sighs.

“No,” he replies. “Not _yet_.”

It wasn’t much, whatever it was between them — much more than appropriate, surely, but what is a few years, maybe even decades, to a man who’s lived for centuries? A lifetime of happiness, followed by another filled with suffering, when Uldren decided to go against everything he had once held dear. Yet no matter how much Shaxx tried to distance himself from the feelings he once harbored for the Awoken Prince, his heart still ached when the Young Wolf had to pull the trigger. His heart is aching now, too, but there’s something more to the pain this time. He can’t quite name it yet, but he knows that he has to smother the fire igniting inside him.

Uldren— The Guardian tilts his head to one side, staring at Shaxx. He squints at his missing horn, opening his mouth, as if to say something, but quickly closes it. For a moment Shaxx hopes that he’ll remember something, _anything_ , even the most insignificant image. It’s won’t happen.

“Do you mind if I stay here for a while?” the Guardian asks. Even his voice is different.

“Of course!”

Uldren, or what’s left of him, drops his backpack to the ground by one of the crates, and rests his exceptionally ornate rifle next to it. The Twilight Oath, it has to be — where he could’ve found one or why anyone would’ve let him leave the Reef with it is beyond Shaxx. Perhaps the news of the prince’s resurrection are spreading much faster that anticipated.

“You…” the Guardian begins, his eyes once again lingering where Shaxx’s face is, under the helmet. “You aren’t hostile like everyone I’ve met. Why?”

What is Shaxx supposed to say? That he could never despise anything that comes out of the lips he remembers kissing so tenderly? That he could never hate the person he once—

He clears his throat. “I prefer to get to know the new Lights before I get rough with them,” he answers and lets out a forced chuckle. To his surprise, the corners of once-Uldren’s mouth twitch.

“Thank you…” the man says, quietly. “I suppose.”

The Guardian, seemingly more relaxed, climbs onto the crate his few belongings are propped against. Illuminated by moonlight, his face looks even more ghastly, his cheeks hollow. And that unnerving, piercing gaze… Shaxx has to look away, he has to—

A sting in his chest; he immediately regrets letting his eyes stray away from the Guardian’s face. He’s surprised he hasn’t noticed earlier, the lustrous metal standing out against the Guardian’s shabby chest plate, glistening with even the slightest move.

“That’s a nice necklace,” Shaxx sneers, part of him wishing he would’ve stopped himself from saying it.

The Guardian doesn’t immediately understand what Shaxx is referring to until the Titan points at it with his chin. “Oh,” he sighs, looking down. “This? I had it on when my Ghost found me.”

Shaxx nods, the nonchalance in the Guardian’s voice like a cold grasp of the void around his heart.

“Do you know what it is?” he presses on, against his better judgement.

“No, not really.”

How can he not recognize it? How can he not recall the night Shaxx fastened it around his neck, before pressing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades?

“Then why not take it off?” Shaxx expects the answer to hurt, but he welcomes the pain with open arms.

“Whatever it was,” the Guardian, _Uldren_ , smiles, “it must’ve been important to me.” His hand closes around the ring at the end of the chain, clenching so hard his knuckles turn white. “I hope to find out the reason behind that someday.”


End file.
